


zero point six seven meters

by deansnuggles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bb-8 is a good droid, Canon character deaths, Gen, M/M, POV BB-8, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, because bb-8 is narrating lol, eventual poe/finn but it's gonna be towards the end, finnpoe stuff starts in chap 5 fyi, minor jealousy, no one's a dick about it tho, other tags may be added but it'll stay rated T, poe & bb-8's friendship through the years, poe and bb-8 BEST FRIENDS!!, poe is a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansnuggles/pseuds/deansnuggles
Summary: After BB-8 describes his intended purpose and failures to conform, Dameron wrinkles his nose. “So you’re saying that, even though you had more success in every mission simulation than any other astromech in the system, and even though they hadspecifically programmed youto think for yourself and make better risk/benefit analyses than your predecessors, they weren’t happy with how often you took initiative and that you refused to settle for failure. Am I getting that right?”BB-8 beeps an affirmative.“Well fuck that. Sounds to me like they should be basing the whole series off of you! Here, look, I do need to get going for today, and who knows when the on-duty mechanic will be back. But I promise you, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow and me and the manager are going to have a chat about dusting you off and getting you some action, alright?”Action!BB-8 rolls in a circle around Dameron, whose eyes crinkle up in laughter.Yes, action, yes! Fly? Simulations? Missions? Adventures?“Yes, yes, all that and more, buddy. Just you wait. I’ll be back for you in the morning, I promise.”----------snippets from BB-8 & Poe's friendship through the years.
Relationships: BB-8 & Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Muran
Comments: 100
Kudos: 111





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> so we're going to peek in on BB-8 and Poe over the course of their life together, from their meeting to post-tros. we'll follow BB-8 through major events in his and/or Poe's life. all the chapters are self contained little stories, so you don't really have to read them all -- though I'd love if you did! to skip to tfa and finnpoe stuff start at chap 5.
> 
> this first chapter is set 10 years prior to TFA.

<System boot>

<Initiate Diagnostics: All systems go>

</Diagnostics>

<Review Mission Parameters: Inventory basic programming: 

>basic systems, movement, physics  
>advanced starfighter flight and repair  
>extensive dictionary of words, phrases, idioms in BASIC  
>experimental programming: personality, morality & choice

<Review Mission Parameters cont.: Submit to evaluations and simulations. Test functionality of experimental programming. 

</Review Mission Parameters>

<Designation: BB-8>

* * *

BB-8 is run through simulations. Accomplishes mission objectives 82.47% of simulated missions. Does not conform to simulation mission parameters. Thinks “outside the box.” Disobeys. Mission parameters supersede mission objectives. BB-8 fails due to not complying with mission parameters.

BB-8 is set to low-power mode. No more simulations. 

* * *

“Hey, there’s more back here!”

BB-8 whirrs awake on his charging pad as someone enters the back room of the workshop. BB-8 is programmed to power on and check status whenever a mechanic enters within a 5-meter radius in case he is needed; but BB-8 has not been needed in the last 254 entrances to the rear workroom. BB-8 is used to not being needed.

“Oh, shit—Iolo! Get your ass back here, it’s one of the new BB units!” 

The person speaking does not appear to be a mechanic. Another not-mechanic pokes their head around the corner of the workroom entrance. BB-8 swivels his optical sensor from one intruder to the other and back. 

<Analyze: Human, assumed male, 1.72 meters, approx. 65 kilos, approx. 20-23 standard years old. Blue flight suit sans vest and chestpiece. Assumed Academy flight school student>

<Analyze: Keshian, assumed male, 1.78 meters, approx 70 kilos, approx 19-22 standard years old. Blue flight suit sans vest and chestpiece. Assumed Academy flight school student>

<Risk level: Low>

BB-8 knows that pilots often come to the Hosnian Academy hanger workshop to repair or request astromech units. Once a year, new 2nd year Academy pilots are assigned their first astromechs. Many pilots visit the workshop over a 2 week period. Pilots never come within 5-meters. Pilots are not allowed in rear workroom. 

BB-8 is curious and outgoing by nature, and he has not had anyone to talk to in a very, very long time. He rolls slightly forward, off his charging pad, and trills at the new arrivals.

_Hello! Hello! Do you speak binary? Am designation BB-8. Am very much happy to welcome you but you should know access to back-work-room is restricted to mechanics. You are not mechanics; you are pilots. Access is restricted._

BB-8 rocks back and forth in a mixture of excitement and dismay. He does not want the pilots to get in trouble. He also does not want the pilots to leave.

“I told you we weren’t allowed, Poe.” The Keshian rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway, arms crossed, while the human waves a hand dismissively. 

The human—designation: Poe?—grins and descends to one knee, bringing himself eye-to-optical-sensor with BB-8. “Well hello there BB-8, I’m Poe, Poe Dameron, and this surly fellow to my left is Iolo Arana. I apologize, he’s usually much more adventurous. Do you know when the mechanic will be back? We need to pick out our second year astromechs.”

_Mechanics do not often activate BB-8. Do not know their whereabouts. Sorry, sorry. Other astros might know? Other astros do not often enter back-work-room._

“You’re back here all by yourself? Are you being repaired or something?”

BB-8 shifts nervously. _Am not… repairable._

“Poe…” The Keshian—designation: Iolo Arana—draws out the name in a whine. “Perri said there’s Adranian pastries in the mess, if we’re late for lunch they’ll all be gone.” 

Dameron ignores him and furrows his brow at BB-8. “What do you mean? You look fine to me, is it a software issue? How long have you been decommissioned?”

_Never been commissioned. Programming is experimental. Am prototype. Did not perform within expected parameters. Was discarded._

“Well that’s… um. Not to be insensitive but. Why didn’t they just wipe you? You look brand new, leaving you to rust in the corner is a waste.”

 _Experimental, down to circuitry. Problem cannot be wiped._ He dips his dome towards the floor. _Was purchased for parts._

“Poe. C’mon. Please don’t fall for the sad-puppy-droid act, we are _late_ . Just pick an R-series like a normal person and let’s _gooooo_.”

Without looking back at him, Poe says, “Look, Arana, if you want to grab any old astro go right ahead, but if I’m picking out a co-pilot we’ve got to click. We’re trusting our lives to these little guys, and they are to us. I’m not just going to grab the first one off the rack.” He throws a look over his shoulder while gesturing at BB-8. “He’s orange, man! I’ve never seen an orange one! That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

“Ugh! You’re impossible, you know that?” He throws up his hands and turns to leave. “You do know that, because I tell you it every. Damn. Day. I’ll see you at the cafeteria, I can pick out mine tomorrow.”

Dameron sighs, rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, but smiles as he shouts back in a singsong. “Love you!”

“Go fuck yourself!” Arana replies in the same singsong tone.

BB-8 tilts his dome to watch Arana walk out of the shop, and makes a low concerned-sound. “Oh don’t worry about him, he’s being dramatic. He thinks he’s cute. He’s usually right, but don’t tell him I said that, he’ll be insufferable. So. Your programming. Tell me about it. Can you fly and repair?” Dameron settles down cross-legged in front of BB-8. BB-8 swivels his dome from the doorway back to his visitor, and decides that any trouble to be had when the mechanic comes back is a problem to be dealt with later. He does _so_ love talking to people. 

After BB-8 describes his intended purpose and failures to conform, Dameron wrinkles his nose. “So you’re saying that, even though you had more success in every mission simulation than any other astromech in the system, and even though they had _specifically programmed you_ to think for yourself and make better risk/benefit analyses than your predecessors, they weren’t happy with how often you took initiative and that you refused to settle for failure. Am I getting that right?”

BB-8 beeps an affirmative.

“Well fuck that. Sounds to me like they should be basing the whole series off of you! Here, look, I do need to get going for today, and who knows when the on-duty mechanic will be back. But I promise you, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow and me and the manager are going to have a chat about dusting you off and getting you some action, alright?” 

_Action!_ BB-8 rolls in a circle around Dameron, whose eyes crinkle up in laughter. _Yes, action, yes! Fly? Simulations? Missions? Adventures?_

“Yes, yes, all that and more, buddy. Just you wait. I’ll be back for you in the morning, I promise.”

* * *

BB-8 sets his internal clock to power on at 0630 the next morning, 30 minutes before the shop opens. He watches the manager of the shop—an older Duros woman—go about her morning procedures. He is always glad when it’s her shift. She occasionally talks to BB-8 when it’s her turn to run the droids through weekly diagnostics. Most mechanics don’t bother.

At 0702 the chime on the front door sounds, and BB-8 has to hold himself back from trilling excitedly. He can’t see the door from his charging station, but he knows, he _knows_ that the pilot has kept his word. Wanting to be on his best behavior, he doesn’t leave his charging pad, but he can’t keep from rolling in small circles back and forth in anticipation. He diverts power to his surveillance modules to listen in.

“M’ayna! How’s my favorite mechanic this morning?” Yes, that is the same voice as yesterday, BB-8 is certain of it!

“Dameron. Don’t tell me you blew out another training fighter? You know, next year they start making you repair them yourselves.”

“I know, I know, but maybe if they didn’t have us flying twenty-year-old equipment for training exercises I wouldn’t have to worry about blowing out half a dozen circuits doing simple maneuvers, you know?”

“Poe, I’ve known you almost two years now. ‘Simple’ is not a term that has ever described anything to do with you.”

“Alright, fair enough. But actually I’m here to talk about your astromechs.”

“Oh, it’s that time of year already, isn’t it? I’ve been off the last week, missed most of the rush. Well you know your way around, let me know which one catches your eye.” 

“Actually I, uh. Already have my eye on one. Stopped by yesterday, whoever’s shift it was must have been on their lunch break, shop was empty. Poked my head in the back looking for someone and couldn’t help but notice that beautiful BB unit you’ve got collecting dust back there.”

“Ohh no. No no no, don’t even think about it. Poe, BB units cost a years tuition, there’s no way I’m sending one off with a rookie, let alone a second-year.”

“C’mon, M'ayna… I know you didn’t buy him new, he was a reject, you probably got him for a song. He said he’s been in there with nothing to do waiting to be broken down for parts.”

“You _talked_ to it? What am I saying, of course you talked to it.” She sighs. “Yes, you’re right. I got it from a friend who grabs overstock and malfunctioning units at auction. I figured when we start getting BBs in a couple of years it would be nice to have already poked around in one that I didn’t have to worry too much about putting back together again.”

“A couple years? You can’t keep him locked up in a storage room for years, M'ayna, come on—he was born to fly! You can’t keep him grounded, it’s… inhumane.”

M'ayna snorts. “It wasn’t ‘born’ to do anything, Dameron. It’s a prototype, one that didn’t work out. All droid models go through dozens of prototypes, at least, before settling on a working model. If I hadn’t grabbed it, it’d already be in pieces.” 

“Right! It’s fate! You just happened to grab him, he just happened to be in your shop, someone just _happened_ to be on their lunch break the day I came in for my astromech. And he’s got a kick-ass custom paint job in my favorite color? Look at me, M'ayna, and tell me I look like someone who’d own an off-the-rack droid.”

She sighs, and BB-8 thinks maybe. Maybe this will work out. Maybe it was fate. 

“Your instructors won’t be happy with an untested model in their sims.”

“Nah, I’ve got Antilles this year. He loves unorthodox. I’ll probably have to keep both eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t steal the little guy out from under me.”

“Gods, alright. Let’s say I do this, just so I don’t have to listen to you whine about it for the next two years. What’s in it for me, kid? That’s a useful piece of machinery you’re taking.”

“Ha! Yes! Okay, we can… I can watch the shop for you? I can, uh, sort? Things? Do repairs? I know basic mechanics, I won’t blow anything up, I promise. And I’ll have BB-8 to help me!”

There’s a pause—BB-8 really wishes he could see!—then M'ayna says, “I’m trying to decide if having you around will be more trouble than it’s worth, but. You are entertaining, I _suppose_ , when you’re not being a pain in my ass. Twice a week, from now til the end of the term. You can choose your schedule, but I choose the work. And it won’t be fun work, I can tell you that.”

“M'ayna, I love you. You won’t regret it, I promise!”

“Yeah, yeah. Go get your little partner-in-crime and get out of my shop, will ya?”

Dameron comes skidding through the doorway into the workroom, in civilian clothes today, grinning from ear to ear. “You ready for your jailbreak, buddy?”

BB-8 whoops and trills, weaving around Dameron and the workbench in a victory lap which resulted in several wrenches and spanners being knocked off the table. M'ayna sticks her head through the doorway and glares. “You better clean that up before you leave, Dameron! Gods, you two deserve each other.”

_Sorry, sorry! Will do better!_

Dameron pats him on the dome. “Don’t worry about it, buddy. I’m excited too—let’s clean this up and get out of here so I can give you the tour!”

BB-8 thinks, maybe this is what having a friend feels like.

* * *

BB-8 follows his new master towards the barracks, while Dameron chatters about their daily schedule and everyone he’s going to introduce to BB-8. “So, I don’t have class til later this afternoon—you can come with or stay in our room. Today is theory, every other day is flight sims, so those’ll be more fun. Right now, though, I’m starving—got up and hopped right over to get you! You alright if we head to the mess? My buddies should still be there this early, I can introduce you!”

_Yes yes please meet Master Poe’s friends!_

He makes a face. “Okay, well, first off, we’re going to have to do away with that “master” stuff. Can you just call me Poe? Is that alright?”

BB-8 processes that for a moment. His programming says to always refer to organics with an honorific. But it also says to obey direct orders, especially from his master—or, not-master. _Poe. Yes, Poe. Like Poe, thank you Poe! Meet Poe’s friends now!_

Poe chuckles as BB-8 does a zig-zag roll down the hall a few meters and back. “Sounds good, buddy. Hey it’s your life now—we’re partners, okay? You’ll need to trust that when I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason, and my best option at the time. And I’ll trust you to know when I’m missing something and clue me in, alright?”

BB-8 trills in agreement and contentment. He hadn’t talked to many other droids in his time since being activated, but he’d spoken to a few, and observed. Mostly organics treated droids—especially non-humanoid-form droids—as equipment. To be asked for his input was unheard of, and exhilarating. Perhaps he would be able to fulfill his original programming after all. 

“So, my friends. They’re good people, you’ll like them. When I first got here I was… not in a great place. I was thrilled to be here, don’t get me wrong, but I had a chip on my shoulder the size of a capital ship. Iolo and I were like fire and oil at first, blowing up at the slightest provocation. When we met Muran all the pieces fell into place, he kind of, um, evens us out, I guess.”

They reach the mess, and Poe grabs a tray and throws a few pieces of fruit and other breakfast items on before heading to a table in the corner with several other cadets around his age. BB-8 recognizes Arana, who notices them first. “Force help us all, he actually did it.”

“Damn straight I did, look at this little guy! BB-8, that one there’s Iolo, you probably remember him skulking around the shop. And next to him is Muran—” 

“Our third wheel!” Iolo interjects. Muran rolls his eyes and kicks at one of the two chair legs Iolo has rocked back on, sending him flailing to right himself.

“Yeah, in your dreams, buddy,” Poe laughs, and introductions continue with a heavy dose of teasing and ribbing. 

Later, as BB-8 rolls alongside Poe on the way to their quarters, he says _Like friends. Never had friends. Like Poe’s friends._

Poe grins and pats him on the dome. “Buddy, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and commenting! hope you enjoyed!


	2. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t say all of that, though. He didn’t have the words. But what he did have was this: BB-8 thinks, maybe this is what “love” feels like.
> 
> He rolls forward and bows his dome till it’s resting on Poe’s knee. _Poe, good friend Poe. Love flying. Love mission. Love you Poe._
> 
> Poe blinks for a moment in surprise, then runs a hand up and down BB-8’s side. “Hey, right back at ya, buddy. Right back at ya.”

It takes a few months of sims before the pilots are allowed to take out the training fighters for off-world practice with their new astros. In the sims, BB-8 and Poe fly together as if they’ve been doing so all their lives. Poe’s scores increase by the day as they both seem to intuitively know what the other needs before it’s even said, and they are ready for off-world before any other team. 

It isn’t the pilots’ first time in the air, of course—they’ve all been out with Academy astro-droids ”babysitting” them dozens of times. And most of them had piloting experience before being accepted into the Academy as well. It is, however, the first time they’re being let out without the Academy astromechs as training wheels. And, more importantly, it’s BB-8’s first time navigating in anything other than a grounded sim program. 

“You nervous buddy?” Poe asks with a grin as BB-8 is lifted into his alcove in the training X-wing.

_Not nervous! Adventure!_

“That’s my droid!” 

They take off with the group of other students and make their way towards an outer moon to practice maneuvers.

When they return to the hanger, Poe waves the other students on to lunch with a “we’ll catch up,” and crouches down in front of BB-8.

“So, Bee, your first time really doing what you were born to do. What did you think?”

BB-8 thought so many things. It was amazing, perfect, beautiful, everything he knew he’d always wanted and more. The flight, the partnership, the speed and intensity and danger of it—he couldn’t wait to do it again. Why would anyone ever want to be on land, when they could be in the sky?

He couldn’t say all of that, though. He didn’t have the words. But what he did have was this: BB-8 thinks, maybe this is what “love” feels like.

He rolls forward and bows his dome till it’s resting on Poe’s knee. _Poe, good friend Poe. Love flying. Love mission. Love you Poe._

Poe blinks for a moment in surprise, then runs a hand up and down BB-8’s side. “Hey, right back at ya, buddy. Right back at ya.”

* * *

At the end of Poe and BB-8’s first year together, the class is set to take a barrage of exams to prepare for their next year. First there are the aptitude tests, much like the ones they took to enter the Academy to begin with, and now take at the end of every term. Every year they are more complicated and specialized, making sure the pilots in the starfighter track wouldn’t be better placed in the slower paced freighter or capital ship tracks, along with beginning to tease out which pilots were most suitable for the faster and lighter interceptors, the slow but devastating bombers, or the workhorses of speed, durability, and firepower combined in the X-wings. 

They all trained on everything, including freighters and other larger systems, but by the end of the second year (if not earlier) they’d all started having a preference. Poe is one of the rare pilots who tested well on the extremely fast and difficult A-wings early on, but he explains to BB-8 that while he grew up flying his mom’s A-wing, he’d grown to prefer the versatility and power of an X-wing, and much preferred having an astromech along to partner with. It had never really occurred to BB-8 that Poe might have ended up in the A-wing track and would no longer have need of him, but Poe assures him that won’t be the case.

“As long as you have the test scores to support it—and I do—it’s the pilot’s choice which fighter to specialize in. I know some of the A-wing instructors would kill to get me to switch tracks, but I’m sticking with the X-wings and Antilles.” He gives BB-8 an affectionate pat. “And you, buddy.”

Along with the aptitude tests, second-years are run through a variety of scenario simulations where the test isn’t so much the outcome as the process. How well you work under pressure, how quickly you think on your feet, what sort of leadership and decision making are you best at, can you take a loss and keep your head. Although they aren’t the sort of tests you pass or fail, the pilots are always even more nervous about them than the skills tests. They just aren’t things you can study for.

The last sim had a reputation for making or breaking pilots—not in terms of washing them out, but for cementing where they would best fit in a leadership capacity. 

“You know they say it’s unwinnable?” Iolo says the night before their exams. The lounge is filled with quiet little pockets of pilots nursing mugs of caf, flipping through manuals and notes on their datapads, too nervous to sleep. Poe, BB-8 and their group have claimed some couches in the back corner, Iolo laying with his feet over the back of one and his head dangling off the seat. “The disabled freighter sim. It’s set up for you to fail.”

“That’s just a rumor,” Muran says, not looking up from his datapad. “The sims change every year, there’s no way to know what they’ll be. Anything you’ve heard are basically Academy ghost stories.”

“Besides,” Poe says, sprawled on the adjacent couch fiddling with some tools he’d just used to give BB-8 a pre-exam tune up. “Nothing’s unwinnable.”

“I’m telling you, this one is.” Iolo swings himself upright, almost kicking the back of Muran's head in the process. “It’s programmed that way, so they can see what choices you make when there are no choices.”

“And I’m telling you, there’s always a choice. Just because no one’s figured out the right one yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Nothing’s unwinnable.” 

“And I’m telling both of you, it’s probably not even a real thing. Just third years trying to scare you.”

As they’re getting ready to turn in, BB-8 asks Poe, _Sim tomorrow? Worried? Friends worried._

“Nah. We’re gonna do fine, Iolo and Muran will do fine. We’re the best of the best, buddy. Nothing to worry about!”

_But, fail sim. Iolo’s fail sim._

“Look, like Muran said, it might not even be real. And if it does exist, we’re gonna figure out a way to beat it, aren’t we?”

_Maybe…_

“Hey—even if we don’t, we won’t be any worse off than everyone else, right? So don’t worry. We got this Bee.”

As it turned out, Iolo was right—there was indeed a no-win scenario as their last sim of the term. But Poe had one thing no other Academy student had had before.

“What the fuck did you do, Poe? The whole fucking building’s talking about it, but no one actually knows anything. So, what, did you blow up the sim room? Take out an admiral or two? What?” 

Poe saunters into their room with a bottle of whiskey and a shit-eating grin. “Well hello to you too, roomie, Muran. May I interest you both in some celebratory shit-facedry?” 

Muran snags the bottle out of his hand and pushes him down to sit on the bed. “First, spill. Then drink.”

“You, my friends, are looking at the one and only pilot to ever beat the no-win scenario.”

“No way. Not a chance.” Iolo says, while Muran just leans against the wall with a considering look. “C’mon Poe, don’t bullshit us, we just did the same sims you did—that one was impossible! If you retreat, a ship full of innocents die, if you engage your whole squadron AND the ship full of innocents die. There’s no way, there were like 30 enemy fighters. You’re full of shit.” 

“Well, you’re right, I did the same sim you guys did, and it was impossible, but! Not unwinnable! Because I had one thing you two don’t have—that no other Academy pilot has ever had.”

Muran lets out a laugh. “Of course. BB-8.”

“And the balls to use him!”

Iolo’s jaw dropped. “No fucking way—how the fuck—” 

_Hacked! We hacked, BB-8 hacked, hacked-hacked-hacked it!_

“Holy shit…” 

“Goddamn, Poe. You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope!” He leans back, hands behind his head.

 _Nope nope nope!_ BB-8 rolls in figure-eights around the room.

Muran shakes his head, trying and failing to hold back a grin. “Gods you two were made for each other. Here—” he pours Poe a generous glass of whiskey “—a last drink before you’re expelled.”

“Pff. I’m not getting expelled. Are you kidding, Antilles laughed his ass off, said he’d pray for whatever poor bastard ends up my CO.” 

“Well shit,” Iolo says, downing the glass Muran has just handed him and holding it up for more. “At this point I’m not sure if I hope to hell we end up in the same squadron, or hope to hell we don’t! Are you a good luck charm or a ticking time bomb?”

BB-8 and Poe look at each other. “Both?” _Both!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry but Poe absolutely had to pull a Kirk at the Academy. ;-)
> 
> One more Academy chapter, then we'll start to hit familiar territory! Thanks for reading and commenting!!


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BB-8 and the boys help Poe through a bad day.

_Poe._

“Mmph.”

_Poe._

“Mmmmph.”

_Poe. Poe. Poe. Poe. Poe—_

“Alright, alright, jeeze you’re worse than Muran. I’m up.” 

BB-8 makes an unconvinced warble and watches Poe sit up and rub blearily at his eyes. Last night had been a bedmate night. It was an irregular, if not entirely uncommon, occurrence, and BB-8 always had to babysit him into the ‘fresher the next morning. On bedmate nights, Iolo stayed with Muran, and unless the bedmate stayed until wake-up—which was very rare—BB-8 was the only one around to make sure Poe made it to his classes on time. Occasionally, Iolo brought back a bedmate—though he seemed to prefer to stay elsewhere, sometimes that wasn’t possible, and BB-8 and Poe stayed with Muran. Muran, by some luck of fate, had won the lottery for a single room with a pull-out cot for visitors. BB-8 liked those nights the best. Muran got Poe out of bed much quicker than BB-8 or Iolo, and while Poe pretended to resent it, BB-8 could tell he was putting on an act. BB-8 sometimes wondered if Poe appreciated Iolo’s bedmate nights as much as his own. 

While Iolo often went to parties and sought bedmates midweek, it was unusual for Poe to do so. Even odder still was the fact that it had happened several times in the past week, and always a different partner.

BB-8 tries to stay out of the way as Poe goes through an abbreviated morning routine, jumping quickly in the fresher and throwing on clothes. He watches as Poe sits on the bed and pulls his boots on, but instead of standing back up he loses momentum, elbows on his knees and head hanging. BB-8 makes a low, worried sound and bumps gently into his calf. _Poe? Poe okay?_

He runs a hand over his face and sighs. “Yeah, buddy. I’m good.”

_Not good. Sick? Sad? I help?_

Poe smiles a little, reaches over to rub the side of BB-8’s main casing. “Thanks Bee, but no. Not sick. Maybe a little sad, yeah. Guess it’s just starting to hit me that we’re all going to be getting our assignments soon, splitting up. Not taking it so well, I guess. And, uh,” he rubs a hand back through his hair, rubs at his neck, winces, “I should probably find some better coping mechanisms, huh? Everything’s sore, head is pounding… hangover’s a great way to start a day of sims.” BB-8 groans sadly. “Yeah, exactly. But you’ve got my back, buddy, right? We’ll be fine. Promise. And I promise I’ll lay off the, uh, extracurriculars on the weeknights, okay?”

_Okay. Yes. Do better! Need to fly! Can’t fly sick-sad. Crash._

“Well, it’s just sims today, no crashing, but I get your point. Don’t worry,” he winks, “even hungover and sleep deprived I can still fly circles around most of these loons. We’ll be fine.”

* * *

_That was not fine._

Poe sighs as he hops out of the flight sim, BB-8 right on his heels. “I know, buddy, I’m sorry, I—” 

“Dameron. A moment, please.”

Poe curses under his breath. BB-8 whirs nervously. “C’mon Bee, let’s go face the music.”

They walk over to the terminal where all the flight data and footage from the sim could be reviewed during and after training, where General Antilles waits for them with arms crossed. 

“You’re off your game today, Dameron. The whole week’s been off, but today...”

“I know, sir, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m not worried about that. Your scores are still better than everyone else in your year, hell probably half the fleet. But you weren’t yourself up there today. Muran took you out twice, Arana even got you once. I know you three basically share a brain, but you never let them get that close. You alright?”

“Yeah—yes. Yes sir. I’m fine, it’s just an off day. I was stupid last night, didn’t get enough sleep, wasn’t at the top of my game. I’ll do better tomorrow, sir, I promise.” 

“I know you will. But it’s midweek, son. That’s not like you.”

“I know, sir.”

“Girl problems?”

Poe makes a face, and BB-8 lets out an amused tone. Antilles raises an eyebrow with a smile. “Boy problems?”

Poe drops his head into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sir, um. No offense, but you’re worse than my dad.”

“I know your dad. I’ll take that as a compliment.” Poe snorts. “Look, Poe. I trust you—if you say you’ve got it handled, I’ll leave it alone. But I want you to come to me—or another instructor, if you’d prefer—if you feel like things might get worse. You’re a once in a generation pilot, Poe. If this was 20 years ago, I’d be pulling you for the Rogues, no question. As it stands, I’m planning on recommending you for immediate promotion to Captain once your 6 month post-grad probationary period is up. 

“Wha-what?” 

“You’ll have your own squadron within a year. Assuming I can count on you to pull it together and end the year strong. So. Can I count on you?”

“Y-yes yes sir, thank you sir. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

BB-8 squeals. _Won’t! Promise!_

Antilles smiles down at BB-8 and claps Poe on the shoulder. “See that you don’t.”

* * *

Poe walks out of the hanger in a daze, BB-8 close at his heels. _Captain. Wow._

Poe shakes his head and opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by a shout.

“Poe! What the fuck was that!” Iolo jogs over to them from where he and Muran had been loitering after the sim, Muran following with a frown. Iolo grabs Poe by the shoulders, spins him around and gives him an uncomfortably close once-over. “The fuck, Iolo!” Poe says, laughing and trying to wiggle out of his grasp while BB-8 headbutts Iolo in the knee.

“Hmm no blood. I figured Antilles ripped you a new one, but you seem to be in one piece. That can’t be right—take your pants off. ”

Poe smacks him away, and Muran walks up and squeezes his shoulder. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m good, I’m just having an off week is all. Antilles just did his concerned parent-General act, told me to figure my shit out.” Poe pauses, runs a hand through his hair nervously. “He, uh, also wants to promote me to Captain? Apparently? Once post-grad probation is over.”

“What? That’s great—!”

“What the fuck, you get your worst scores of the year and a promotion? How come I never get a promotion for fucking up?” Muran elbows him, and Iolo rolls his eyes, grinning. “I _mean_ , that’s _awesome_ Poe. Really, that means you get a squadron right? Dibs on one of those birds!”

“Yeah man, of course, you know I’m pulling you both as soon as they’ll let me. But first, um, we’ve gotta get through the next few months. Can we, uh, maybe grab food and go today? I really don’t want to sit in the mess right now.”

The other two agree, and after they grab some easily portable dinner they make their way over to Muran’s larger quarters.

“So. Spill. What’s going on?” When Poe looks like he’s about to dodge, Iolo throws a piece of fruit at him. 

“Seriously Poe,” Muran says with a frown, “great news aside, you’ve been off all week. Iolo says you’ve been staying out late, drinking, sleeping around. That’s not like you.” BB-8 whirs in agreement.

“Iolo does it all the time!”

“Yeah well I’m an idiot, we all know that,” Iolo says. BB-8 whirs in agreement to this too, which Iolo ignores. “Muran’s the boring responsible one. You’re supposed to be the happy medium, here. You’re throwing off our delicate balance.”

“We’re just worried,” Muran says. “It’s three months til graduation, then we’ll all be out in the field. It’s one thing to fuck around in training, we just want to make sure whatever it is doesn’t get you hurt. Or killed.”

“It’s not…” Poe puts his head in his hand, pinches the bridge of his nose. BB-8 bumps gently into his knee, and he rests his other hand on BB-8’s dome. “I’ll be fine by graduation. I promise. Hell, I’ll be fine by next week, more than likely. It’s just a bad week.”

“Poe, I’ve known you three years, Arana’s known you four. You’ve never had a week like this. You gotta talk to us, or at least talk to one of us. I can take a walk, Iolo can go back to your room, whatever you feel comfortable with. But we know we’re all you have here. We’re not going to leave you alone when you’re like this.”

_Poe has BB-8. Will not be alone._

Poe lifts his head to smile at him. “You’re right, buddy. Bee wouldn’t leave me alone, and I think he’s miffed you’re assuming he would. It’s okay though, Bee. Should just rip off the bandaid so they stop pestering us, huh?” 

BB-8 looks between Poe and the others a few times, then decides. _Yes. Friends help. Friends idiots, but friends help._

Poe takes a deep breath. “Eighteen years ago this weekend, my mom died.” BB-8 knew this, they’d been through two of these anniversaries together, but Poe had never had this much trouble. “I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard this year. I guess maybe because I’m the same age she was when I was born. Which just brings home the fact that she was so young, so fucking young to die like that. Eight more years. If I had the same fate, I’d have eight more years. And here we are, about to graduate, and what do I have? I have you guys, but they’ll split us up for our post-grad assignments. I mean, I’ll do my best to get us back together, but when it comes down to it it’s not really my call. I’ve got my dad, but he’s moon-bound, left the war twenty-five years ago and never looked back. It’s just me and BB-8 against the galaxy I guess.”

“Shit, Poe, we had no idea.”

“You should have told us, you didn’t have to deal with this on your own all week.” Muran reaches over to take Poe’s hand, and Poe draws in a sharp breath before turning his hand over to squeeze back. BB-8 rotates his optical sensor between them as Muran continues, “You’ve been there for us through all our shit, we can at least listen. Or just keep your mind off it, if you’d rather?”

“And hey, yeah they’ll split us up for probation, but we’re the top of our class—they’d be idiots not to put us back together. We kick ass.” 

“Yeah, you’re right, I just…” Poe sighs. “There’s no guarantees, you know? And they are kind of idiots.”

“Antilles will push for it, I’m positive. Six months and we’ll be flying together for real.”

Poe gives them both a watery smile. “Thanks guys. Sorry for getting all maudlin on you.”

Iolo claps him on the shoulder. “Hey, it was your turn anyways. If you didn’t have a breakdown at some point we’d start to get inferiority complexes.” Suddenly he pops up out of his seat, clapping his hands together. “Oh! You know what? This calls for shitty holos and junk food. I won’t take no for an answer.”

As he hops over to the door, Muran calls out, “But no alcohol! It’s a weeknight!” To which Iolo rolls his eyes dramatically as he leaves.

Muran turns back to Poe, looking concerned. “You alright with this? If you need me to run interference with him—”

“No no, it’s fine. It’s good, actually, it’ll be a nice, non-self-destructive distraction.”

“True.” Muran chuckles, wraps his arm behind Poe and pulls him in, Poe leans his head on Muran’s shoulder and sighs. “We’ll be okay,” Muran says softly. “I promise.”

A few minutes later, Iolo burst back in with his arms full of various snacks he’d lifted from the mess and stashed over the course of the semester. “Hey no fair, starting the cuddle party without me.” Poe and Muran both flip him off without moving. “No seriously, move your asses, I’ve got an idea.”

Iolo proceeds to push the cot and the bed together and tosses every spare pillow and blanket he can find on top as a nest—he grew up with two sisters and says this was their preferred approach to a bad day, throwing every soft thing they could find in a pile and the three of them burying themselves in pillows while projecting holos on the ceiling. 

Muran raises an eyebrow at the ensuing pile of bedding. “You do realize we are three grown-ass men, right? I haven’t had a sleepover since I was nine.” He considers and amends. “Well, a non-sexy sleepover.”

“Please, this is _the sexiest_ sleepover you will ever experience.” Iolo throws himself on the beds in a belly-flop, misestimating and banging his head on the far wall with a muffled curse.

Poe grins, holding his hand out to Muran. “C’mon buddy, this might be our last opportunity to do something completely ridiculous before we’re out on our own, being all responsible.”

Muran shakes his head with a long suffering expression, trying and failing not to smile as Poe drags him into the bed. “You two are insane.”

“Hey, Bee, get up here will you? Leave no man or droid behind!”

Several hours later, having gone through half the snacks and at least three holo-dramas, the trio of pilots has passed out in a pile covered in pillows, blankets, and each other. BB-8 turns off the projection, quietly uses his cables to swing off the bed, cleans up any empty food containers he can reach, then rolls over to the wall-port to charge for the night. He looks back once more at his companions—Poe using Muran’s stomach as a pillow, Iolo using Poe’s thighs, all breathing deeply, unstirring. 

BB-8 thinks, they may not know what the future will hold, what challenges and struggles they will face in the field, but if they can stay together, they’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends our time at the Academy -- we'll be in more familiar territory next. This was extremely self-indulgent so I hope someone else gets some enjoyment out of it!


	4. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BB-8 knows what death is. Deactivation. Destruction. Eternal loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the canon character death, so be aware! Sad times in pilot land. This chapter takes place during Poe's chapter in Before the Awakening which is very good and you should read it if you haven't. But you should be able to follow everything without it.
> 
> This one's on the short side, didn't want to stay in sad land for too long.

Muran is dead. 

BB-8 knows what death is. Deactivation. Destruction. Eternal loss. BB-8, however, had never experienced death—not really, not firsthand. Poe had, he knew. Poe lost his mother when he was very young, his grandfather even younger. There had been some pilots they both knew peripherally who had died, due to skirmishes with pirates and mercenaries and perhaps even some First Order encounters, though the higher-ups denied it. But they’d never lost anyone this close. They’d never lost a squadron member. A friend. A lover. 

BB-8 had never seen Poe as happy as he’d been these past few years, flying missions with pilots they’d known for years, their squadron, their family. This was what they were meant to do, were meant to be, finally realized. Once Poe was given command of his own squadron, he requested transfers for Iolo and Muran, and a friend he’d made in his probationary assignment, Karé Kun. Their small squadron—now named Rapier Squadron—quickly became known for their efficiency in tracking down pirates and protecting essential cargo lanes.

Muran and Poe had always been close, and over the past year something had fallen into place that they’d been dancing around since the Academy. Poe bringing Muran into his bed and into his heart had felt both sudden and inevitable, and BB-8 had been thrilled. Poe loved Muran, Muran made him happy, and so BB-8 loved him too. For a while, it was the best of times.

Now, suddenly, Muran is dead. Killed by ghosts from the past, TIE fighters of the First Order, who the Republic said wasn’t a threat and wasn’t their problem. Even now, with blatant and deadly attacks in the supposed neutral zone, the Republic will not allow the Rapiers to act.

Poe is not Poe, right now. Or maybe he is just Poe, distilled down by grief and anger and loss. He is an unstoppable force, taking the attack and the Republic’s lack of action as an indictment of a failed system that has been left to only him to correct. Their friends back him up, of course they do—they love Muran no less than he does... 

Did. 

Does. 

BB-8 is not sure where death leaves them. His love certainly doesn’t feel any less, any smaller. Just… sadder. 

They find the bad guys, they complete the forbidden mission against their orders, but it doesn’t really change anything. “What do we do now, Bee?” Poe asks on their flight back to base, all the fire that led to their going AWOL having burned itself out. “Where do we even go from here?”

When they land, Poe says, “Look, Bee. This is probably a court martial. I may not see you for a while, okay? I’m gonna try and keep Iolo and Kare out of it, they’ll take good care of you til I’m back. But if not, Dad’ll come get you. You won’t be alone, I promise.”

_ Poe. Miss you. Don’t go. _

“I know buddy. Not gonna have much of a choice. We’re just gonna have to see how forgiving the New Republic military brass is feeling today.”

They come for Poe and BB-8 as soon as they set foot in the empty hanger, their squadmates, having arrived ahead of them, nowhere to be seen. They are taken, with none of their questions answered, to a small building on base they’d never been in. Poe is nervous but his head is held high, and he gives BB-8 a final pat before they take Poe inside. BB-8 knows he will fight to his last breath for what he believes is right, for Muran’s memory, and for the safety of their remaining squadron. He knows, and he hopes.

Miraculously, Poe returns several hours later, looking somewhat dazed but lighter on his feet than when he left, no longer looking like the weight of the galaxy was pushing down on him quite as hard. He has with him their missing squadmates, and he explains that they’d all been drafted by Leia Organa’s Resistance—” _ The _ Leia Organa, wants  _ us _ to help her fight the First Order. Can you believe it?” BB-8 could. It’s what they were made for. 

When Kare and Iolo go off to pack up for their defection—”more like a transfer, really. Just, a secret transfer”—Poe and BB-8 start to head back to their quarters to do the same. Before they part ways, Iolo stops Poe with a hand on his shoulder, looking more serious than he normally does outside of combat. “Do you need us to come with you?”

Poe tries to put on a cocky smile, but it crumbles before it’s fully formed. He takes a shaky breath. “No, I’ll be alright. I just… need some time to sit with it, before we leave. Before I pack it all up.”

Iolo purses his lips. “I don’t think I like you being alone tonight.” He looks down at BB-8. “Hey Bee, you come get us if he’s not okay, yeah? Watch out for him for us.”

_ Yes. Watch Poe. Always. _

* * *

When they reach their quarters Poe palms the security pad and starts through the door, but he stops abruptly just inside the threshold and BB-8 crashes into his calves. BB-8 makes a question-sound as he rolls around Poe’s legs and looks up at him, Poe’s face is pale and stricken. BB-8 follows his eyeline to the bed and—oh. Of course. They shared their quarters with Muran. They have not been back here since. This is why Iolo was worried.

The bed is made, with crisp folds—Muran’s doing. Even eight years in the military couldn’t keep Poe from defaulting to the bare minimum of bed maintenance. There are schematics on the side table they had been looking at together before their last mission. On the desk, a few pieces of flimsi with Muran’s neat handwriting, next to ones with Poe’s scrawl. A holo of the two of them, next to a holo of the four Rapiers, next to a holo of Poe’s parents—Muran’s parents had died when he was young, there would be no one to write a notification and condolence letter to. A jacket is draped over the foot of the bed, Muran’s. Poe reaches out to touch it, hesitantly, as if it might turn to ash under his fingers.

BB-8 bumps gently into Poe’s knee.  _ Sit, Poe.  _ Before you fall, he doesn’t say.

Poe nods vacantly and slides to the floor, bringing the jacket down with him and burying his face in it. 

This is grief, BB-8 thinks. It’s not something he’s had any experience with, not something he knows how to fix. He could go get the others, they would know what to do, how to comfort in this moment, but he doesn’t think Poe would want him to. Not that he would be embarrassed, no… but this was a private moment. He hadn’t wanted them here. BB-8 would respect that, as long as he felt it was safe to do so.

So BB-8 does what he knows how to do, what he’s done for the past seven years through all the ups and downs of their life together. He rolls up to his side, presses gently against his hip. He keeps him company. 

After some time, Poe takes a few stabilizing breaths and puts his arm around BB-8, rests his forehead against BB-8’s dome. “We're gonna do this, buddy. We're gonna fight for what's right, like Mom and Dad did, and we're not gonna stop. We're gonna save the galaxy, for them, for Muran, for everyone lost and everyone who's still here. For good this time.” 

BB-8 softly beeps his agreement.  _ For Muran. For good. Fight. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sad, blame Greg Rucka! Except be nice to him because he's great.
> 
> Next chapter we finally hit the movies! It's possible there might be a 6th chapter, depends where the good break points fall. It's all written through the end, just not remotely edited. 
> 
> Can't thank you guys enough for all the comments along the way! I've never done a multi-chapter WIP before, you've really kept me going. <3


	5. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BB-8's feelings during the events of The Force Awakens

BB-8 never liked being alone.

It was inevitable, occasionally. There were places Poe needed to go, missions that didn’t allow for a distinctive droid rolling at his heels. There were even times BB-8 was sent to do a task on a mission himself, but that never lasted longer than a few hours. When Poe wasn’t there, BB-8 hung out in the hangar with the other astro droids, or tagged along after Kare or Jess. So BB-8 was rarely ever _truly_ alone.

He’s alone now.

He’s also scared, something he’s not really accustomed to feeling. Sure they’d been in danger before, plenty of it. He’d even been truly convinced they were about to die, on occasion. But every time before, he’d been with Poe. If Poe was there, he wasn’t scared. If Poe was there, BB-8 knew he would do absolutely everything in his power to get them out alive, and if they died, they’d die fighting, and they’d die together.

But Poe isn’t here. BB-8 left Poe behind, so he could complete the most important mission any droid had been given since R2-D2 held the plans to the Death Star. He left Poe in the middle of a firefight, surrounded by stormtroopers, with Kylo Ren’s ship landing in the background. 

They’d been in trouble before, a _lot_ of trouble. But they’d never been in Kylo Ren level trouble.

BB-8 is alone, and he is scared.

* * *

Most people don’t talk to droids. Most people barely notice droids, unless they need them, and then they talk _at_ droids, not _to_ them. They order, demand, dismiss. Never ask. Especially droids who aren’t humanoid shaped, who can’t speak Basic, who can’t look them eye-to-eye. Some pilots get attached to their astromechs, have favorites, are sad if they’re destroyed—but not as sad, even, as losing a favorite pet. 

Rarely, a droid will meet a person who speaks _to_ them, who looks _at_ them. Who gets on their level, looks them in the optical sensor, and asks a question—not to obtain data, but to obtain an opinion. Who is happy to see them, enjoys spending time with them, and mourns them if they are lost. Poe is one of these uncommon people. General Organa is another. In BB-8’s tenth year with Poe Dameron, he meets another. Her name is Rey. 

BB-8 isn’t alone anymore. And for a short while, he thinks, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe they’ll get to town, and Poe will be there waiting for him. He will grin, and call him “buddy,” and praise him for his bravery. He’ll take him home.

Poe is not there.

Poe’s jacket is. 

The wearer of Poe’s jacket says, Poe didn’t make it.

BB-8 is not alone, but he feels more alone than he ever has, not since M’ayna’s shop. This is grief, he knows. This emptiness. This is what Poe felt when they lost Muran. 

But BB-8 has a mission—Poe’s mission, Poe’s last orders to him. He must protect the map, his new friend Rey, and the young man who against all odds had shown up wearing Poe’s jacket, as if Poe himself had sent him to them to look after. All of these had been entrusted to BB-8, and he would not fail. He would _not._

* * *

On Takodona, when a familiar black and orange X-wing flies overhead, a ship BB-8 knows better than he knows his own circuitry, the empty feeling inside him turns to vibrant joy. And as he watches Poe embrace the new young man—Finn—with his own vibrant joy, BB-8 thinks, maybe none of us need to be alone any longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is extremely short -- sorry! I was finishing up the TLJ section and realized they really worked better as separate chapters. So that one should be coming in the next few days as well, then there's just TRoS and wrapping up! Ahh!


	6. Regroup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BB-8 and his friends in a quiet moment on the Falcon while leaving Crait.

BB-8 is not sure what to feel.

He is happy, thrilled that all of his friends made it through the decimation of the Resistance fleet alive, if not unscathed.

He is proud of his friends for being brave, fighting for what is right, not backing down when it got hard.

He is ashamed of the part they played in it all going wrong.

He mourns the lives lost and the setback they now have to deal with. The path to victory—any path to victory—is much harder to see than it had been just two days ago.

BB-8 doesn’t think he’s ever felt this many things at one time. 

He rolls through the Falcon, dodging more people than should fit on such a small ship, along with a fair number of small bird-like creatures that R2 had called “porgs” and referred to as “filthy stowaways.” He looks for his friends. He’s pretty sure he saw Rey heading towards the cockpit to relieve Chewie. He doesn’t see Poe in the main lounge, but he does see Finn, seated next to an unconscious Rose. Finn can’t speak binary, so BB-8 looks pointedly between him and Rose.  _ Finn. Okay? Rose okay? _

Finn blinks down at him for a moment. “Oh, hey BeeBee. You asking about Rose? Yeah, she’ll be okay. We patched her up pretty well, and Connix says we just need to keep her sedated so her body can heal, since we don’t have any bacta.” He sighs, straightening the blanket over her in what seems to just be a nervous fidget. “She got hurt saving me, you know. It’s my fault. Don’t know what I’d do if…” 

BB-8 swivels to look between them a few times before responding.  _ Finn should rest. Finn hurt too. Tired and sad. _ To get his point across, he rolls backwards towards the ramp to the cargo holds where he knows they are setting up a rest area, then back again, tugging on Finn’s pant leg with his pincher. 

Finn shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay here a while longer. Don’t think I could sleep, anyways. There’s too much in my head right now.”

BB-8 has heard that excuse before. Many times. He knows he won’t be able to convince Finn to leave his vigil, but he thinks he knows who might. 

He finds Poe in the largest of the cargo holds with his friend C’ai, moving crates to create as much open space as they can, and laying out every sort of blanket or linen they can find for sleeping areas. BB-8 beeps in greeting, and Poe stands up from where he was arranging crates to form a sleeping nook, brushing his hands off on his pants. 

“Oh hey Bee! What do you think? It’s not anything to write home about but I think we can fit a good third of the crew in here in relative comfort.”

_ Good! Looks great! Now need help. Finn need help. _

Poe looks alarmed. “Finn? What’s he need, is he okay?”

_ Finn fine. Stubborn. Won’t recharge. Needs recharge. _

Poe grimaces, scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a common problem, I think. Well I’ll see what I can do, buddy, but no promises.”

_ Have faith.  _

BB-8 leads him back to where Finn still sits. Poe sidles up and slides down to sit against the wall next to him. “Hey, buddy. BB-8 here says you could do for a ‘recharge.’”

Finn shoots a glare in BB-8’s direction. “BB-8 is a snitch.”

BB-8 does not dignify that with a response. Poe laughs. “Well that he is, but he’s not wrong. You’ve been through a lot, man. Why don’t you come lay down for a bit. We’ve got it all set up, super-comfy cargo blankets on metal floors.” Finn raises an eyebrow at that. “Alright well, it’s better than bare metal floors, right?”

Finn shrugs, picking at a loose thread on his stolen uniform. “Yeah, I dunno. I don’t really want to leave Rose. She, um. Saved my life. Got hurt because of me. I don’t… really know what to do with that.”

At that, BB-8 interjects.  _ Rose save Finn. Finn save Poe. All save each other. Friends. _

Poe translates for Finn, then adds, “He’s right, you know. That’s what we do here, we look out for each other. Even when it’s hard, even when we’re idiots. You’d do the same for her. I’d do the same for you. That’s friendship, buddy. That’s what you do for the people you care about.”

Finn looks up at Rose’s still form. “She kind of said something similar, when I pulled her out.”

Poe nods. “Smart woman, our Rose. Also a good friend. A good friend who’d want you to go get some sleep while you can. In fact, if she was awake right now she’d probably be reaming you out about it.”

Finn rolls his eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, she probably would. Alright, look. I’ll come lay down for a bit under one condition.”

“Sure, anything.”

Finn raises an eyebrow pointedly. “You come get some rest too. Hell you probably need it more than I do, I didn’t even wake up til after the first battle.”

BB-8 trills in agreement, and Poe makes a face. “I dunno, I still gotta, um…” He casts about as if hoping to grab an excuse from midair. Finn raises the other eyebrow while BB-8 bumps into Poe’s shin. Poe sighs. “Alright, alright, jeeze. Why’d I even let you two meet, anyway?”

He stands up, offers a hand to pull Finn up and claps him on the shoulder, steering him back to the cargo hold. BB-8 follows in their wake, and positions himself at the foot of their chosen sleeping nook to keep watch. They lie facing each other, comparing notes on the events of the last few days. BB-8 listens as they slowly trail off and sleep finally takes them. He thinks, victory may well be further away than ever, but they are together now, all of them. The ones who are left. The ones he loves. It’s a start. A… spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one will probably be one long chapter to get through tros and get the boys together, unless it ends up working better split in two. it's mostly done! thanks for sticking with me and our favorite knee-high droid. I need to catch up on comments but I see you and I appreciate you all very much!


	7. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 months after Crait, BB-8 figures out what's been causing Poe's sudden mood swings.

The first few months after Crait go surprisingly well, all things considered. They have their close calls and a few quick evacs from temporary bases, but no major losses. They keep their heads down and split up, looking for potential bases and Resistance cells that might have gotten separated or cut off from the main group. 

Poe and BB-8 go out on their own quite a bit at first, in shared and borrowed X-wings until they acquire enough ships to customize their own again. But after the mission to Coronet City General Organa seems to realize how well Poe and Finn work together, so rather than send Poe and BB-8 out solo she starts sending the three of them out in the Falcon, often with Chewbacca and a few others for co-piloting and maintenance. BB-8 does miss the thrill of navigating a fighter sometimes, but he also really likes seeing Poe happy. And, surprisingly, for a while he seems to be. 

After Crait, they all went through a slump, Poe perhaps most of all, but he’s come out the other side of it more… solid, somehow. More thoughtful. Doesn’t always have half a foot back in his cockpit, as he used to. Being allowed to fly out on the Falcon definitely helped—BB-8 remembers the first time Poe had been invited by Rey and Chewie to take the helm of the famous freighter, how reverently he’d run his hands over the somewhat tattered upholstery, the control panels worn down from time and use. Even now, after several months of taking her out on missions, he still performs his pre-flight check like a sacred ritual. But the main factor, BB-8 thinks, is Finn. 

Finn seems to have a stabilizing effect on Poe when he’s around, and vice versa. He balances Poe’s extremes with pragmatism, while Poe brings out a more adventurous, optimistic side in Finn. When they’re in the Falcon, on a mission, things are better than ever. This is surely what the General saw when she teamed them up, and now six months out from Crait she’s been proven right again and again. They’ve acquired ships, gathered intel, gained allies slowly but steadily, and much of that can be attributed to the team on the Falcon.

Recently, however, when they land back on Ajan Kloss Poe becomes more somber, closed off. Not the restless energy that used to build up when they were grounded too long, that would have been familiar and easier to manage, but an intense single minded focus, planning missions and tracking allies and supplies. He stays up later and starts early, no longer joining in on the normal down-time habits of the other pilots or joining his friends for meals. When he finally stops for the day, he trudges back to his quarters and collapses in his bunk, often still fully clothed. When asked, he dismisses concerns with “I’m fine, just busy,” and no one pushes the issue. He is, after all, in charge of larger and larger pieces of the Resistance as Leia grooms him to be her Second. But it’s more than that, and BB-8 makes it his mission to get to the root of the problem.

BB-8 finally figures it out when they arrive back on base one afternoon after a successful intel mission. Normally, they would disembark the Falcon, congratulate each other one last time on a job well done, then Poe would make his way to debrief with the General while Finn left to find Rey. Since they’ve set up the permanent base Rey rarely joins missions, focusing instead on her Jedi training. Finn is out on missions regularly, usually with Poe on the Falcon but occasionally with Rose or others depending on their needs, so he isn’t able to spend much time with Rey except for the short down times between mission debriefs and new assignments.

This particular day, as they disembark and BB-8 expects Poe’s post-mission good mood to quickly fizzle out, they are told by Lt. Connix that Rey and Rose had left on a mission to inspect some ship ruins an ally had found to see if there was anything they could scavenge or strip for parts. At this, Poe grins, wrapping an arm around Finn’s shoulders and pulling him in playfully. “Well it looks like it’s just you and me for once, buddy! Let’s debrief and grab some lunch?” 

BB-8 thinks, oh. 

Oh.

BB-8 is certain the issue isn’t that Poe doesn’t  _ like _ Rey. He respects her, asks for her input during planning meetings, trusts her with BB-8. They do butt heads more than occasionally, both being strong personalities who make quick—sometimes rash—decisions without always consulting the others. But neither are prone to holding grudges, their tempers flare bright but burn out quickly. Off-duty, they get along just fine, with their shared love of BB-8 and shared best friend in Finn. Thinking back, it has been a while since they’ve all spent any time together, but Poe hasn’t been spending time with much of anyone, recently. It hadn’t occurred to BB-8 to look at it any closer, until now.

Until now, when Rey is gone unexpectedly, and where Finn would normally be going off to spend the day with her he’s being pulled in by Poe. Poe who is normally watching Finn walk away. Who doesn’t ever notice Finn watching him back. 

Is this jealousy? It must be, of a sort, though Poe has never acted on it or taken it out on them in any discernible way. No, he thinks, it mostly just seems to be… sadness. Not wanting to intrude on their time together, but feeling unmoored when alone. Wanting something without, perhaps, even knowing what that something is.

* * *

The next morning, BB-8 is assisting Poe in putting the finishing touches on some modifications to their newly acquired X-wing. Poe had managed to trade favors and charm his way into a new paint job which BB-8 likes very much, though they both miss their old fighter. The hanger area is mostly vacant at this hour, and BB-8 sees an opportunity.

_ Poe. _

“Hmm?”

_ Poe like Finn. _

“What? What about Finn?”

_ Poe. Like Finn. Poe-like-Finn-Poe-like-Finn—  _

Poe scrambles out from under the ship, hands waving at BB-8. “Hey—hey! Shhhh shh, no no no. Jeeze, Bee, you gonna broadcast it to the whole hanger?” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes darting around the empty space. “Of course I like Finn, everyone likes Finn. He’s very… likeable.”

BB-8 makes a rude noise.  _ Pffft. No. _

“No, he’s not likeable?”

_ No, Poe don’t like Finn. Poe loooooove Finn.  _ He punctuates the word with several circles around Poe, who attempts—and fails—to smack him with an oily rag. 

“Alright, alright! Fuck, I surrender, just be quiet will you?” BB-8 rolls to a stop and looks up at him. Poe sighs and slides down to sit against a landing strut. He’s quiet for a minute, and BB-8 lets him process. “I dunno, Bee.” Poe says, finally. “Maybe I do. Maybe… it’s just been so long. I don’t know if I’d recognize it if I did. Besides, there’s a war on, you know? And he’s been through so much,  _ so much _ , more than anyone should have to in a lifetime let alone in just twenty-odd years. The last thing he needs is my sorry ass pining after him, right?”

He chews on his lip for a moment before continuing. “When we’re out on missions, it’s so  _ easy _ . We’ve got a goal to focus on, together. We work together so well, better than anyone I’ve ever fought with. But back here, I dunno. There’s a disconnect. I don’t know what he wants, I don’t know what  _ I _ want. I know I’m a lot to deal with, and he doesn’t need that. Better to just… keep my distance, sometimes. He’s got Rey, too, and that’s… I can’t compete with that.”

BB-8 beeps quietly. Finn loves Poe _.  _ He knows it’s true, even if they can’t—won’t see it. There is no question Finn cares for Rey, deeply, but he cares for Poe too. And BB-8 may not be an expert in organic relationships, but he does have an advantage over all of them—he can watch from the outside. And after watching Poe and Muran, Snap and Karé, and many others over the years dance through attraction and courtship, he’s pretty sure he can tell the difference by now. 

_ Finn love Poe. _

Poe smiles sadly at him. “I know he does, buddy. I love him too. He’s my best friend. That’s just gonna have to be enough, for now. When this is over, maybe… well. We’ll see. I just want him to be happy.”

BB-8 rolls up and tucks himself under Poe’s arm.  _ Poe happy, too.  _

Poe wraps his arm around him and gives him a small smile. “Yeah. Someday, buddy. Someday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this one gave me TROUBLE. It's basically just connective tissue trying to find an emotional throughline from TLJ to TROS which it turns out is uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh not easy! "Bad mood?" "Always!" Since .... when, exactly? Thanks JJ!
> 
> Anyways I added another chapter AGAIN because I needed this before the end part, but the last one IS REALLY THE LAST ONE THIS TIME and it just needs some polishing up.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! Hope this one turned out okay.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bb-8 is 1000% done with his disaster of a partner and takes matters into his own hands, er, pinchers?

After Exegol, everything had seemed fine for a while—or, as fine as it could be, under the circumstances. That night, they’d celebrated, they’d mourned, and in the early hours of the morning Rey, Finn, and Poe had found a quiet corner together as Finn revealed that he had been feeling the Force. He didn’t want to train, not yet, but he wanted them to know he was done with keeping secrets. They’d hugged, they’d cried, they’d compared notes from the battle and hugged and cried some more. 

After the celebrations and memorials had died down a few days after the battle, Rey had said she was taking Luke’s X-wing to do her own memorializing, and Poe had asked BB-8 to navigate and keep her company, which he was more than happy to do. When they returned a few days ago, Poe had seemed mostly normal, if a bit quieter than usual, and had greeted them both with smiles and hugs. 

Finn and Jannah had left on their own mission a bit after Rey and BB-8, starting to put out feelers for other companies of ‘Troopers who may be having second thoughts now that the Order was collapsing. They’d finally returned this morning, and Poe and BB-8 had greeted them when they landed, then Poe took them to debrief with the other senior staff they’d cobbled together in the weeks since the final battle. 

As the debriefing had wrapped up and conversation turned from business to telling stories of their travel and catching up with the happenings back on base, Poe had snuck away instead of participating. Now, Poe is holed away in the hangar, ostensibly working on the X-wing though BB-8 knows better than anyone that she hasn’t seen any action in weeks and is fully functional from her last tune-up.

BB-8 decides to call him on it.  _ Hiding. _

“Hmm? Who’s hiding?”

_ Poe. _

Poe looks down from where he’s perched on an engine casing, fiddling in it’s guts. “Me? I’m right here, what are you talking about?”

_ Finn back now. _

“Yeah,” he draws it out, confused, “I know. I just saw him this morning. You were there. Do you need maintenance yourself, buddy?”

BB-8 makes a frustrated sound.  _ No! Finn back. Poe hiding. _

At that, Poe rolls his eyes and leans back down over the engine he’s pretending to work on. “I’m not hiding. I’m right here. Everyone knows where to find me—I’m either at the command center, in the hangar, or in my bunk. No one’s coming to look for me, so…” He trails off, pointedly. “Anyways, if you want to go hang out with Finn, be my guess buddy. I’ll be here for a while. He’s probably with Rey, anyways.”

BB-8 lets out a long-suffering groan, then rolls off. If Poe is going to be difficult, then he’ll bring his friends to him.

He finds Finn in his bunk, unpacking, with the door open.  _ Finn! Hi Finn! _

Finn looks up from where he’s sorting clothes on his bed and grins. “Hey Bee! What are you up to?”

_ Bored.  _

Finn chuckles. “Yeah, me too, honestly. I’m supposed to have the day off, just coming off a mission, but everyone else is busy so.” He gestures at the clothing strewn about. “Laundry. Thrilling stuff.”

_ Rey? _

“In the woods. Off doing Jedi stuff. I told her we could meet up for dinner, I was going to ask Poe too, actually, but… I haven’t seen him. I figured he’d stop by after the debrief but. I guess he’s busy too, huh?”

He most certainly was not, but he wouldn’t be stopping by Finn’s bunk any time soon either. BB-8 could work with this, though.  _ Not busy. Distracted. In hangar. Needs a break. Go say hi? _

Finn blinks at him for a moment. “Yeah, I mean, if he’s not… are you sure he’s not busy?”

_ Not not not busy. _

“Alright, yeah, sure. Let’s see if we can drag him away, yeah?”

* * *

_ Poe! Finn, Poe! Finn! _

“Wha—” Poe sits up suddenly, bangs his head on the underside of the X-wing. “Fuck! What, Bee, what about Fi—oh.” He blinks owlishly at them for a moment then smiles, a bit forced. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey, uh, BB-8 said you weren’t busy, but you look pretty busy, so…”

“No, no, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing really, just, um.” Finn scratches the back of his head. “Kind of bored, I guess. Thought we could find something to do, or I could just keep you company here? Or not, if you’re busy, I can just…” he trails off, looking back towards the base.

Poe stands up, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth. “Uh yeah, sure. I mean, I figured you’d be off with Rey for a while, you guys haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Yeah she’s off doing, I don’t know, Jedi stuff I guess. Said she’d meet us for dinner.”

Poe blinks at him again. “Oh.” 

When nothing more seems forthcoming, Finn pushes ahead. “But I haven’t seen you in a few weeks either, so, you know. Figured we could hang out for a while then meet up with her in the mess later.”

“Uh yeah, sure. Sure, we can do that. But uh, you guys can have dinner without me. I don’t need to take over your Rey time.”

“What? What are you talking about”—Finn’s eyes narrow—”did—did you guys fight again? Damn it Poe, she’s been back three days, did you two already manage to piss each other off? Am I going to have to leave you with a babysitter next time?” He asks, only half jokingly.

“No! No, man, we’re good. Honest. I just—look. I’ve had some time to think, and I really don’t think I need to be third-wheeling it with you two any more. It’s not fair to you guys, or, frankly, myself, so.” 

“‘Third-wheeling’ what… what does that even mean?”

“Third-wheel, you know—like, you can have two wheels, or four wheels, but why would you need three wheels, the third one’s just superfluous, gets in the way.”

“That doesn’t… Poe that doesn’t even make sense. X-wings have three wheels!”

BB-8 spurts out an amused beep, Poe shoots him a glare. “No they don’t, they have—it’s an expression!” He sighs. “Look. what I mean is, the war is over. Life is short. You love her, and somehow against all odds we all made it out. You should take that as the miracle it is, and I shouldn’t get in the way of that. And I won’t.”

“Get in the way of… of what, exactly? Poe, you’re not making any sense. I told you, Rey and I aren’t like that. Way back after Crait, I told you that.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Yeah, a year ago, when you’d been in the Resistance all of two minutes. A lot has changed in a year, Finn. We won a war, Rey’s a Jedi, you’re a General… could be a Jedi too, if you wanted. You have time now, and I need to face the facts and stop being a… a bitter asshole about it. I’m done. I promise. I won’t get in the way,” he repeats.

“Bitter, what are you—wait, are  _ you _ in love with Rey?”

BB-8 lets out a series of amused beeps,  _ You! Rey! Ha! Poe, you and Rey, hahaha! _

Poe clenches his teeth and glares at BB-8 again, who ducks behind the closest landing strut. Then he crosses his arms and meets Finn’s eyes with his chin up, eyes gleaming defiantly. “No, Finn. I’m not in love with Rey.” He puts just a little too much emphasis on her name.

Finn blinks, once, twice. “Wait. Are you—what?”

Poe’s expression cracks, just slightly, but enough. “Don’t make me say it.” 

BB-8 rotates his sensor back and forth between them. Finn looks gut-punched, and Poe's expression is moving quickly towards resigned.

Finn manages to stammer out, “Are you, I mean—you’re not serious, right?”

At that, Poe’s face goes carefully blank, and he turns back towards the ship. “No, you’re right. I’m not serious. This is me, not being serious. But hey, turns out I am pretty busy, so I’m gonna need to take a raincheck on that—”

Finn grabs his arm to turn him back, and Poe’s eyes are wet, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Poe. Are you… you’re in love. With  _ me _ ?”

Poe’s eyes search his face, then he sighs. “Yeah, Finn. Yeah, I am.”

Finn lets out a disbelieving sound, then lets go of Poe’s arm to run both hands over his head as he steps back. “That’s—um—okay. Wow. I, uh. I don’t know what to do with this. This is…”

“You don’t have to do anything. Look, buddy, you weren’t even supposed to know, alright? I’m just tired, and—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

BB-8 makes a soft, sad sound, and Finn snaps his eyes back to Poe’s. “What—no! No, don’t, don’t apologize, Poe, fuck. I just—I need—I need a minute here, okay? We should talk about this—”

“We  _ really _ don’t need to do that—”

“I  _ want _ to talk about this, okay? I do. I really really do, but. Can you give me a, a day maybe?” He reaches out to take Poe’s hand, and Poe looks down at it, blinking. “I’m not upset, really, I’m glad you told me. I just need to sit with it a bit, alright? And I’m  _ not _ in love with Rey—just, please get that through your head, okay? ”

Poe blinks down at their hands another moment, then nods, pulling away gently. “Yeah, okay. You, uh, you know where to find me.” 

* * *

Poe is quiet the rest of the evening, and brushes off BB-8’s attempts to talk, so BB-8 just keeps him company as he skips dinner, stares blankly at several pads worth of paperwork, then tosses and turns overnight. Early the following morning Poe is in the ‘fresher taking a shower when there’s a knock on their door. BB-8 swings his optical sensor from the door to the ‘fresher and back before deciding to go ahead and answer it, though it’s pretty early for visitors.

BB-8 isn’t really surprised to see Finn standing on the other side. “Hey Bee,” Finn says with a small smile. “Poe around?”

BB-8 rolls backwards to give Finn room to enter.  _ ‘Fresher. Finn sit wait. _

Finn hesitates a moment, looking behind him into the hallway, then follows BB-8 into the room. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just um, wait, if you think that’s alright.”

_ Yes. Finn wait.  _ BB-8 isn’t entirely sure about all the intricacies of navigating human relationships, but he knows Poe will be happier after he speaks with Finn. He almost always is.

Finn sits on the edge of Poe’s bed and fiddles with the odds and ends sitting on the bedside table. A few minutes later, they hear the shower turn off and Poe walks out, towel around his neck… and nothing else. He notices Finn on the bed and freezes for a half second, eyes wide, before ducking back around the corner. “Shit! Uh...! One second!”

BB-8 looks back at Finn, whose surprised blinking turns into a smirk as Poe comes back out with the towel now around his waist, cheeks pink from more than just the shower, looking anywhere but directly at Finn. 

“Uh, sorry, I was just, um, taking a shower,” he turns to look back into the ‘fresher as if hoping it would swallow him up. “Didn’t realize you’d come in.”

Finn is trying and failing to hold back his amusement. “Yeah I can see that.”

“Did you um, want to…” Poe trails off, apparently giving up words all together. BB-8 laughs at him and Poe glares, pointing an accusing finger at him with the hand not currently holding onto a rather small towel. “You! Are no help at all, you could have said something!”

_ Why? More fun! _

Poe kicks at him and BB-8 rolls backwards snickering.

“Soooo,” Finn says, “did you want me to come back, or did you want to find some clothes?”

“Clothes!” Poe looks as if he’s forgotten the entire concept. “Yes! Uh…. yes, be right back.” He snatches a few things haphazardly out of a chest of drawers and ducks back into the refresher. He emerges looking relatively more put together, if a bit mismatched.

“So.” He leans against the wall across from Finn, crossing his arms, attempting to look casual but not succeeding in the slightest. “I guess you’re here to talk, yeah?”

Finn nods, looks down at his hands. “I thought about… what you said yesterday. What that means. What, um, what it means for me, too. It’s—” he sighs, runs a hand over his face, “it’s not really something I was, um, programmed to deal with?” He makes a face, shakes his head. “No, not programmed, I’m not a machine, I just. I don’t have much basis for comparison, you know? It’s never even been on my radar. You all,” he waves his hand vaguely, encompassing Poe, the planet, the galaxy, “you all figured this stuff out when you were kids, right? How to do this? I don’t even know what ‘doing this’ entails!” 

Poe raises an eyebrow, and Finn rolls his eyes. “I mean, I understand the, the  _ physicality _ of it, that’s not a problem,  _ really _ not a problem. But the rest of it? Kind of terrifying, to be honest.” He looks up and meets Poe’s eyes. “But I’d like to try.”

Poe breathes in slowly, face carefully neutral. “Try what, exactly? What’s on the table here?”

“Being, you know. Together.”

A beat. “Why?”

Finn looks confused, hurt. “Why? What do you mean, why? I thought… that’s what you wanted?”

“It is, I do, but I’m… I’m not convinced it’s what you want.”

“I’m  _ telling _ you, it is.” 

Poe runs his hand down his face and turns away, pacing to the other side of the small room. He puts his hands on his hips, shoulders rising and falling in a sigh. He spins back around, looking determined. “Alright, hear me out—are you sure you’re not just agreeing because it’s what  _ I _ want? You’re a good man Finn, a good friend, I know you don’t want to hurt me, but. I can’t do this casually. I just can’t. It would—it would kill me. I’m not... I’m not asking for—for a ring or anything. But you need to understand, I can’t do this just to try it out. I’m all in buddy, and I need to know you’re there with me. So, humor me, please—why?”

Finn huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “Of course you’re all in, Poe—you’ve never half-assed anything in your life. I know that, I know you, and I knew that coming into this room. 

“You...you drive me crazy, you're impulsive and temperamental and… impossible, but you're also passionate and selfless and you care about people, like really care... and you trusted me, believed in me from the moment I took that helmet off. You cared about  _ me. _ You gave me a name. You made me want to be better.” 

Finn worries at his lip for a moment before continuing. “I talked to Rose last night, when I was… trying to figure all this out. I asked her, how do I know? How do I know if I love him? You know what she said?”

Poe shakes his head, eyes wide. 

“Well, first she said I was an idiot. Then she told me to tell  _ you _ that  _ you’re _ an idiot. Then she asked: do you dream about him? And I said, what do you mean? I dream about lots of things, they’re dreams, they don’t make any sense, don’t mean anything. Hell the other night I dreamt Chewie was the size of a porg, and BB-8 could fly. How can that help me? 

“And she said, no. Do you dream about him when you’re awake? Do you think about him when he’s not there? Do you count down the time til you’re with him again? Do you fantasize about him in a mundane way, just… touching, or holding, or being close. Do you feel… pulled into his orbit, when you’re near? Because attraction, she said, is heat, and fire, a burning in your gut, but love—love is warm, and solid, a steady pull on your heart. And if you have both, well. Then that’s… really something.”

“And do you?” Poe asks, his voice a bit hoarse. “All of those things… do you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I really do.”

Poe lets out a breath, runs a hand down his face, then nods to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“Look, Poe,” Finn says, standing up and approaching. He tilts his head down a little to catch Poe’s eye. “I’m out of my element, here. I don’t know what this is, if what I’m feeling is what I’m supposed to be feeling. But. There’s no one else in the galaxy I’d rather figure it out with than you. If you—if you’ll have me.”

Poe gives him a searching look, and a watery smile. “Yeah, Finn. Yeah, I—” He takes a deep breath, starts over. “Yes. It would be an absolute honor.” Finn grins at him in response, and Poe reaches out to cup his cheek, but stops just short of touching, bites his lip and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Finn brings his hand up to hold Poe’s against his cheek. “Please.” 

Poe leans in, their lips touch and just hold for a moment, before they move in tandem, closing the remaining space between their bodies. Someone lets out a soft noise, and…

...And BB-8 has enough experience to know when he’s no longer needed. He rolls over to his charging station to set himself to low-power mode for a few hours, chirping happily to himself. He thinks, right before he powers down, that he and Poe have never really had a home in their ten years together, and their lives show no signs of calming down any time soon—though the danger decreases by the day, there’s perhaps even more work in building peace than in fighting a war. But this… this, here, feels like home. 

All in a day’s work, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tada! thank you all soooo much for sticking with this along the way, and hello to any new readers -- I hope you enjoyed this final chapter! it got away from me a little and became more finnpoe than bb-8 but he's a good droid and just wants everyone to be happy so I think he'd be okay with it.
> 
> this was my first ever wip AND the longest thing I've ever written so I'm gonna go celebrate. and then start writing from human povs again :-P oh, and reply to my comment backlog I SEE YOU AND LOVE YOU I'M JUST THE WORST!!! 
> 
> I love you all! come find me @ thatgoddamnflipphone.tumblr.com and @deansnuggles on twitter. :-D


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